Bad
by Raine K. Grayson
Summary: Blaine Anderson has always been a good kid who was completely sure of what he wanted from life. Erm, well, that was until a certain leather-clad scoundrel throws himself into Blaine's path. Badboy!Kurt & Nerdy!Blaine, Dark AU
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hey everyone! So this is something I've been enjoying working on. This is a nerdy!Blaine, badboy!Kurt, Dark AU fic that I did at the suggestion of a friend! Finally getting around to uploading what I have up here!_**  
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**Chapter 1**

Blaine Anderson was a good kid, he really was. His grades were perfect, his attendance something to be admired, and he, of course, was respectful to his parents and teachers. He was fully aware that he wasn't the most attractive guy in school, nor the most popular, but he had Wes, Nick, and the rest of his little clique, and they all understood and loved him and that was all Blaine really needed. In fact, he was pretty sure he preferred it that way. Yes, Blaine Anderson liked his life exactly the way it was. The boy saw the way most of his schoolmates were so unhappy, even though they seemed to have everything people his age were supposed to want. Looks, popularity, boyfriends and girlfriends, that kind of stuff. So he had deduced that none of it had to mean anything, because he was perfectly happy being exactly who he was, even if who he was just happened to be a little nerdy and he had to endure the occasional spit wad in his hair.

Today was no different than any other one as he shuffled through the front entrance of William McKinley High School. He was wearing the same pair of thick black glasses that were a little too big for his face, carried the same trusty pencil behind his ear, and got shoved around in the bustling hallways as much as he always had. No, nothing hinted that today would stray from the path Blaine was completely fine following diligently.

Well, until a whirl of black and silver came crashing into Blaine as he was opening his locker and scraped him against the wall of metal grates.

"I fucking hate you _so much_, Hummel!"

Blaine, who had fallen to the floor once whoever was on top of him had moved and he wasn't being pinned to the lockers anymore, let out a shriek as he brought his hands up to his painfully burning nose. When he squinted up and tried to make out what was happening and saw nothing but a blur of color, he gasped at the realization that his glasses had been knocked off and threw his hands out to feel for them. Grazing his hands over the familiar frames, he scrambled to put them back on so he could better understand the commotion going on above him. When his eyes adjusted to being able to see again, he saw that the whirlwind of black and silver was a boy wearing a leather jacket adorned with many clinking buckles and zippers, sporting a wildly hostile smirk and hair that had been coiffed into what Blaine could only describe as a modern reinterpretation of John Travolta.

"Oh, honey, you flatter me." The leather-clad boy said in a voice that was just as gruff as his face. Before Blaine could get a better look at him, he had to scramble away, edging his way into the crowd that had formed as another angry-looking boy shoved him up against the lockers. When Blaine was at a safer distance, he pulled himself back up off the floor and watched them scramble against each other's strength, and that was when he realized that he recognized the man in the letterman jacket trying to swipe a thick arm at the smaller boy. It was Dave Karofsky, the football player. It was hard to make out details as he was jostled around by the ever-building crowd that had shown up for the fight, but from what he could make out, it looked like Karofsky's eyes were dripping tears.

"How could you do this to me, you cocksucker!" The football player wound his arm up for another attack, but it seemed the boy in leather's smaller frame had the advantage in this fight as he easily dodged the swing and was on the other side of him before Karofsky realized what had happened.

"Trust me, I'm better off without you." The boy cooed slyly, backing up and crossing his arms disinterestedly. Karofsky let out an anguished, rageful grunt and swung again, this time slapping the other boy across his face with a resounding smack and a force so powerful it made his jacket's many accessories clang just as loudly as he was blown back by the force.

"Y-You weren't worth coming out of the fucking closet for! I'll…" Something changed in Karofsky's face as he towered over the boy. "_I'll fucking kill you!"_ Dave dove toward the boy, but apparently the slap hadn't dazed him that badly, because he was back on the balls of his feet and hopped out of the way quickly, rounding on his assailant, all the dark playfulness gone from his face. Then, before Blaine could blink, there was a flash of metal as the boy in leather swung one arm around Karofsky's neck and held the point of a switchblade to the base of his throat in the other.

"You're not worth all the trouble you're putting me through, Dave. And don't you _dare _threaten me. Kurt Hummel doesn't get _death threats."_ The words were barely audible, but Blaine was close enough to hear his seething tone. Blaine gasped loudly as the entire crowed tensed and fell silent at the look of pleading horror on Karofsky's face and the deadly seriousness of Kurt's as his fingers tightened their grip around the knife. And before Blaine could realize how horrible of an idea it was, he had taken a step forward and yelled "STOP! Don't hurt him!"

The entire crowd's eyes went straight to him, including Kurt Hummel's.

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks and his entire face flush red, stuck between embarrassment and fear…Until Kurt Hummel's face stretched into a smile that was equally as scary as he seriousness , then he realized that no, no it was mostly fear. Kurt Hummel unhooked his hand from around Dave's throat, who slumped to the ground and gasped wildly, his smirk unmoving as he took a few steps toward Blaine, the click of his combat boots seeming so ominous as Blaine eyed the knife still in his hand.

"Or what?" He challenged, leaning over to speak it very clearly right into Blaine's ear. His entire body went numb. He gulped hard as he glanced over the boy's shoulder at the fear and sadness still frozen in Dave's eyes as he pulled himself to his feet. Again, Blaine felt the words stumble clumsily out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop himself. "O-Or I-I'll fight you!" He thought of how ridiculous he must have sounded as he stared up in a terrified way at the other boy, who had frozen in place. He had to be in shock; Blaine would be too, if someone like Blaine was standing up to him. He seemed to regain himself quickly, however, because the confused look on Kurt Hummel's face disappeared and was replaced with a wide, crazed sort of smile as he slowly extended the arm holding the knife straight out. He flicked it closed and nimbly snuck it into the cuff of his jacket, taking a few more steps toward Blaine, the entire crowd frozen in suspense. He tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was useless. Kurt Hummel didn't want to use his knife on him; he wanted to use his fists. Blaine Anderson was about to get beat to death.

He saw Kurt extend both arms towards him and Blaine flinched and threw up a meek pair of fists, ready to say goodbye to his perfectly ordinary, perfectly happy life. He clenched his eyes shut and swung wildly, but, not to his surprise, he felt a whoosh of air as the nimble boy dodged his feeble attack and then…

Blaine cautiously opened his eyes when he realized his face hadn't been smashed in to see that two strong hands had been placed on either of his shoulders and Kurt Hummel was just standing there, smiling at him with a mischievous (and scary, definitely scary) glint in his eye.

"You've got balls, kid."

Blaine blinked, and, now that his life wasn't in danger and Kurt was so up close to him, he also definitely noticed that Kurt's eyes were an impossible crystalline blue…And his jawline was _definitely_ perfect. And he smelled good. Like axel grease and musky cologne – Not something Blaine ever thought he would find attractive. He didn't realize he had been gaping so obviously at the boy until he felt his surprisingly soft fingers reach up and tap his chin upwards to close his mouth, his eyes flitting from Blaine's feet to his curls.

"By the way, I think you're bleeding, honey." He smirked wickedly, threw him a wink so quick Blaine was sure he had imagined it until he remembered the crowd around him and saw how all their eyes were still on him, completely bewildered. Then, the boy Kurt Hummel spun around and clicked his combat boots down the hall, the crowd parting around him.

Snapping out of the haze of confusion Kurt Hummel had somehow put him in and actually registering what the husky voice said, Blaine hurriedly wiped his nose with his sleeve and gasped when he pulled it back and saw it was saturated in blood. Looking down, he realized he must have been spilling out blood the entire time, a small trail of droplets stained down the front of his sweater.

"Well, what the fuck are all of you pussy's staring at?" As Blaine looked at his red-covered hands and began to sputter uselessly, Dave had come to stand next to him. Blaine didn't think about how short he was often; Wes and everyone had joked about it, but he never really registered his smallness until right now, when Dave busted in front of him and told off the crowd with a menacing voice, his muscles tensing warningly. Someone had either looked at him or Blaine wrong, because Dave had launched forward and shoved one of the gawking kids to the ground with a hard thump, and the fear of their own safety finally got them to thin out and disperse. After almost everyone had left, he turned to Blaine, looking terribly awkward and broken.

"Thanks. For that." He said simply, diverting his eyes, obviously not used to being the one who was protected. Blaine, who was more focused on the amount of blood he was finding on himself, responded with an equally awkward "N-No problem." And it was then, an entire fight too late, that an English professor named Mrs. Eisenhower hurried down the hall with wide eyes toward the two.

"Blaine! Are you okay?" She put a hand on his shoulder ad Blaine concentrated on keeping more blood from spattering on the floor (feeling his stomach churn as he looked behind him to see a worryingly large amount already smeared where he had fallen) mustered a weak nod. She whipped her head around to face Dave, who instantly shrunk under the teacher's scrutinizing stare.

"David Karofsky, did you do this-?" "-No!" He responded desperately. "Well, yes, but it was an accident! It's Kurt Hummel's fault!" Mrs. Eisenhower's eyes narrowed at the mention of the name. "What did he do now? Oh, never mind. Karofsky, I'll meet you in the principal's office. And before you say a thing, don't worry, I am _going_ to find Mr. Hummel and he'll be joining you as well. First," She turned back to Blaine. "Let's get you to the nurse. That nose isn't looking in the best shape." Blaine nodded sheepishly in agreement and let the teacher guide them down the hallway, trying not to glance at Karofsky as he muttered a breathy "Come on." and he saw tears glisten at the edges of his eyes again.

He had no idea what had happened between the two of them, but it seemed to Blaine that Dave had just gotten broken up with. (Wait…Dave Karofsky was _gay?_) And, even though his stinging nose was mostly Dave's fault for shoving Kurt into him, he couldn't help but feel bad for him. Finally conceding and looking back, he saw the young man lean an arm against the locker and wipe away the few tears that had escaped. He had never seen the jock like that, and from the way he ruled the halls with the rest of his gang, the way he was acting showed that he probably cared a lot about Kurt Hummel.

Who was Kurt Hummel, anyway? He had never seen him through the hallways or in any classes. What grade was he in?...What cologne did he wear?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Oh, Blaine, what did you do to yourself now?" The nurse sighed as she looked up from her paperwork as Mrs. Eisenhower knocked on the frame of the nurses' station. She had a smile on her face, though, hopping up as Blaine scooted into the seat next to her desk.

"It wasn't me this time, I swear, Mrs. Jones." He tried to say in his usually polite and friendly manner he reserved for his elders, but as he poked at his nose again experimentally, he let out a sharp breath and his voice stuttered a little. Nurse Jones chuckled softly as she snapped on gloves and pulled out a small, bright flashlight. The school nurses all knew Blaine because, well, Blaine was a clutz. He could admit it, and he found himself toppling over people's feet and clothes-lining himself on water fountains often enough for each nurse to have their own funny story about him.

Her smile faded a bit when she shone the light up his nostrils, cautiously patting the bridge and sides of his nose. "And who would have the nerve to do_ this_ to _you?_" She said in a motherly tone that made Blaine slump his shoulders a little. He hated when teachers treated him like he was small and fragile. It made him feel incompetent and childish often, but he always kept it to himself. Blaine Anderson was polite and he respected their opinions of him, even if he had to grit his teeth when they spoke to him every once and awhile.

"Uh, it was an accident. I kind of got in the way of a fight…So I guess it was my fault in a way in the end." He laughed, a little nervously, watching the nurse with crossed eyes as she continued to inspect his nose.

"Really? Between who?" Blaine was a little taken back with her interest in school violence. The nurses had a bit of a gossip habit. "Er…Dave Karofsky and…Kurt Hummel." The name sounded sharp on his tongue. There was an excitement in saying it, though; like by speaking it out loud he was channeling the chaos that the boy in the leather jacket seeped.

"Kurt Hummel? Huh. Didn't know he was back already. I should've gotten his paperwork. Well, your nose looks like it's definitely swollen and will probably be bruised pretty badly for awhile. You should ice it for 15 minutes every night and keep one of these bandages on it during the day for about a week." She turned to the counter and trailed her manicured finger down the line of bandages, plucking the correct one and handing it to him and he took it with pursed lips, distracted.

"He's…back? What happened that he had to leave?"

The nurse clucked her tongue as she filled a bag with ice and handed it to him. "Oh, Blaine, let's just leave it at he made enough trouble to last him up until graduation. Will you put that bandage on and ice yourself? You don't need that swelling getting any worse." Blaine wordlessly fumbled with the bandage, pulling off the adhesive protector and wrapping it around his nose, feeling the thick, stretchy material bind his nose half-closed. He gave a few experimental huffs out of his nose, flinching at how sore they were and pulled the ice up quickly to quell the pain.

"Alright, Mr. Anderson, back to class with you, alright? Let me write you a hallpass. What class are you going to?"

"Algebra with Mr. Fitz. Thank you, Mrs. Jones." Blaine gave a small smile to the nurse as she wrote the pass in neat little handwriting and handed it to him. Sliding off of his chair, ice still held up dutifully to his nose, the boy took the pass and tucked it in the front pocket of his shirt, noting that he had to make a stop at his locker to get a new one that wasn't covered in blood as he left. "Seeya next time!" Mrs. Jones called after him jokingly as he rounded the corner out of the nurses' station, and he waved after her as he headed back onto the familiar path to Algebra with a small sigh.

Blaine was ready to forget everything that just happened to him. He was ready to forget about Kurt Hummel and his ridiculous jacket and bright eyes and convince himself that getting back to class and focusing on his work could bring him back to having a clear head. But, apparently, the world wasn't done torturing him yet, because Blaine stopped in his tracks when he heard the clicking of heavily adorned combat boots coming up from down the hallway.

"Forgetting something?"

Blaine gulped hard when he heard the coy, high voice behind him, clutching his ice bag perhaps a little too hard as he braced himself, turned around, and saw him. He had a spread palm against the lockers, leaning to the side, his hip jutting out and his ankles crossed. The hand he wasn't leaning into was twirling a pencil—_Wait a minute!_

"My lucky pencil!" Blaine gasped, hurrying up to grab it from between Kurt's nimble fingers. He instantly felt ridiculous when he realized how close he suddenly made himself to Kurt and how Kurt had leaned in and, oh god, Blaine could feel his breathe tickle his ear and the hair on the back of his neck stood on edge at the sensation.

"Oh, that?" I wasn't talking about that. You're welcome for picking it up, though. I was thinking you'd want a kiss or something for being so heroic back there, Prince Charming." Blaine pulled back and, oh god, that was a horrible idea because now he could see Kurt's eyes and, oh god, is he being serious? There's no way he's being serious. And did he just call him Prince Charming? Did that mean he thought Blaine was attractive? Is he leaning in? He is, oh my god – He was serious! Then Kurt Hummel's eyelids were drooping and his whole body was encasing Blaine as he slowly but steadily continued to close the gap between their mouths. And Blaine didn't know what to do but clutch his pencil and his ice bag desperately and (unsuccessfully) try to stop his own eyes from fluttering closed and-

"You're blushing, Sweet Prince."

Blaine's eyes shot open (Had he really closed them?) and he saw Kurt's eyebrow raised, his lips curled into a smooth smirk as they hovered over Blaine's half-opened ones. He could feel the flush in his cheeks, but he was frozen. Kurt let out a breathy little laugh as he pulled himself back. "Okay, so you are gay. I was right, as always." Blaine tried to choke out some sort of retort, but all that came out was a sputtered "I-I-Oh," which Kurt Hummel stopped quickly by bringing a finger up and pressing it up against his mouth.

"Shh, it's fine. I kind of have that affect on people. I _am_ Kurt Hummel, after all." He looked so pleased with himself and his cockiness helped Blaine come to his senses and back away, trying not to notice the way Kurt's eyes followed him ruthlessly. He felt naked under that stare – like Kurt was mentally undressing him and trying to piece together what was underneath. Not knowing what else to do, Blaine held his ice bag back up to his nose and just…Waited for Kurt to do something, because he knew he'd do _something._ Maybe if Blaine was lucky it'd be some sort of exit. But, as it was already established, today was certainly not one of Blaine Anderson's lucky days.

Kurt shot his hand forward, his quick fingers flicking the green slip of paper in Blaine's front pocket and examined it, letting out a little laugh as he did.

"Algebra, yeah? You know, I wasn't planning on going, but…" Blaine's eyes widened.

"You have class with me?" He said, a little panicked, and Kurt threw an unbearably sassy hand on his unbearably perfect hip and sucked on his unbearably full cheeks in response.

"Guess I do, Charming." Blaine blinked. Kurt shook his head and pushed himself off the wall, stuffing the pass into Blaine's pocket and giving it a little pat as he walked past him. God, how did everything Kurt do seem so sarcastic? _So irrestistable…_

"Come on then. Don't want to miss Mr. Fitz's face when he sees me walk in. I had him last year. He hates me." He said it was such glee in his voice. Blaine cleared his throat uncomfortably, watching Kurt prance down the hall as he stood rooted to his spot until finally, he remembered he was going to his locker and turned to walk back down the hallway – He'd take the long route to his locker if it meant avoiding Kurt. But Kurt didn't seem to like the idea however, because he spun around when he realized Blaine wasn't behind him.

"Aww, did I scare you, Sweet Prince?" Blaine bit his lip as Kurt walked up behind him. "Where're going without me? I'm telling you, you'll really regret missing Mr. Fitz's reaction."

"I'm going to my locker. My shirt's covered in blood." Blaine said, a little annoyed by how determined Kurt seemed to be when it came trying to make his life miserable. The other boy only laughed in response though, and when Blaine heard the commotion of way too many buckles and chains jingling behind him, Blaine sighed and turned around, his curiosity winning. What he saw made the blush instantly rise to his cheeks again.

"What are you doing?" Blaine said in horror as he watched Kurt remove his jacket, revealing a black tee that seemed to be glued to his skin. He could make out the dips of his hip and his navel and every line of muscle through the obviously thin material, but he didn't have to imagine for very long because then Kurt had put his jacket between his knees and crossed his arms over his front and pulled his shirt off right in the middle of the hallway, right in front of Blaine, and held it out to him. Blaine's jaw dropped.

"I personally think the blood makes you look risqué, but I guess Princes like to look clean. Stop staring and put this on. Or you know, keep staring. That's fine too. But people are probably gunna start thinking we're an item if you're this obsessed with my chest."

It took a lot of effort for Blaine to pull his mouth closed, and before he knew what he was doing, he had reached out and grabbed the shirt. Swallowing thickly he turned his attention to the shirt, the material surprisingly soft in his hands. He didn't really associate Kurt Hummel with anything that could be considered soft, but the shirt was amazingly so. What material was it made out of?

Hold on. Wait a minute. He had just accepted the shirt off of Kurt Hummel's back.

Blaine held it back out to Kurt quickly, like it was some sort of poison. "I-I can't take this. I have one in my locker." He managed to choke out, wide-eyed as he watched the way Kurt was studying him.

"Yeah, but that's not nearly as much fun, is it?" Kurt winked at him. Blaine looked down at the shirt, then around the hallway nervously.

"I need to go to a bathroom to change…"

"No you don't." Blaine gulped again.

"What will you wear?"

"That's a stupid question." Kurt replied, taking his jacket and throwing it back on around him, not bothering to buckle up the front so his bare chest was still very much exposed. Blaine stayed silent for a moment, just standing there with his ice dripping condensation on the floor in one hand and the shirt in the other until Kurt huffed loudly, rolling his eyes and clicking his boot impatiently on the ground.

"Oh, come on. You know you want to. And I know you're going to do it anyway, so stop waiting around. I don't think you understand how badly I want to fuck with Fitz."

Something inside him did a flip and Blaine found himself obeying. With shaky hands he put his ice bag on the floor carefully then, turning his back to Kurt ("Tease. Guess I'll just check out your ass, then.") tugged off his own shirt and replaced it with Kurt's as quickly as he possibly could. It was big on him and smelled strongly of Kurt's cologne and Blaine instantly regretting going through with putting it on, but it was too late to go back now. Picking up his dirty shirt, he folded it and tucked it under his arm, then picked up his ice bag and brought it back up to his nose before turning back around to face Kurt, who had that same satisfied smirk stretched over his face.

"Damn, Prince. Wish it fit you better, but that view of your ass makes up for it I guess. Nice one, by the way." Blaine furrowed his brow as he pulled his pass out of his dirty shirt and tucked it into his pants pocket. "Nice what?"

Kurt reached over and plucked the hallpass from Blaine's pocket. "Ass, obviously." Blaine's heart skipped a beat and Kurt turned on his heel and began walking down the hall again, causing Blaine to purse his lips and hurry after him. He felt utterly pathetic.

"Hey! Give me back my hallpass!" Kurt only snorted in response, sticking in the pocket of his jacket as he continued to walk. "I'll give it back to you before we get into the classroom. I want you to walk with me, honeybunch. And the best way to guarantee that is, well, if I make you." Blaine huffed at him, flustered, especially now that he couldn't escape his scent. Kurt had a point though, because he continued after him the entire way to class and Kurt pulled the now crumpled pass from his pocket when the rounded the corner to the Algebra classroom and held it out to Blaine.

"It's been fun, babe." He cooed and Blaine just glared at him, snatching up the pass and walking into the classroom. Mr. Fitz was in the front of the room, writing out a problem on the board and was so engrossed in it Blaine had to clear his throat from him to notice Blaine was even there.

"Oh, Blaine. What happened?" He said, studying his swollen nose. Blaine shook his head and handed him the pass self-consciously. "Same as usual, sir." He nodded with a small smile. "Well, go take a seat, but grab an assignment sheet along the way. We're currently working on problems 1 through 10; just start doing what you can." Blaine shook his head and did as he was told, feeling the entire class staring at him as he headed to his seat in the front row. The news of what had happened must had traveled through the school fast, because he wasn't used to getting stared at like that when he came in with an injury. It was almost a relief when Kurt strode into the room a moment later, hands tucked in his pockets and jutting out his naked chest with a huge grin on his face. Without saying anything he walked right to the front row of desks, plopping himself down in the empty one next to Blaine and winking at him again.

His heart dropped somewhere into the depths of his stomach as a loud murmur of whispers started up behind them instantly. Mr. Fitz seemed to hear them, because he turned around and…Well, Kurt was right. The look on his face when he caught Kurt Hummel smirking up at him from his desk was pretty priceless.

"Mr. Hummel. You weren't supposed to be back in classes for another week." He spoke to Kurt like he was his arch enemy, and Kurt seemed to be eating it up. "Yeah, well. I got bored and decided to make an early entrance." Blaine stared at Kurt. He was fearless as he spoke to the teacher, talking as if _he_ was the one in charge of the classroom.

"A-And why don't you have a shirt on? That is completely inappropriate." Kurt curled up his lips and scrunched his nose, jutting a finger lazily in Blaine's direction as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, please, Fitzy. I'm not some floozy. I practically ripped the poor boy's shirt off his back when we were fucking in the bathroom before. It's only common courtesy to give him mine, right? " Mr. Fitz' nostrils flared and he threw his hand up, pointing out the door violently. "Principal's office. Now." Kurt rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue in faux-annoyance and Blaine turned around desperately to face the rest of the class that was now looking at him with shocked eyes.

"We didn't—No—I didn't…"

"Don't lie, honeysuckle. Aww, really, Fitz? But I just got here! And I just saw Figgins about…" He checked a watch he didn't have. "20 minutes ago. I think he's tired of my face, and I know you just missed it so much." Kurt cooed at the teacher, who seemed like he was just about ready to strangle him.

"Kurt Hummel, if you don't leave my class in the next 30 seconds, I'll make sure you're permanently expelled." Kurt let out a small laugh, but the threat seemed to work because he swiveled himself around in his seat and began to walk out of the classroom…But not without stopping with one foot across the threshold to swing his head in Blaine's direction and point a finger at him.

"See you tonight, schnookie? Your place or mine?"

Blaine's cheeks flushed violently, probably worse than when Kurt's lips were hovering over his just…Was that really only a couple of minutes ago? "We don't – I didn't –"

Kurt pouted before cutting him off again, "It hurts that you want to keep us a secret, baby. It's fine though." He shot his eyes from Blaine to the rest of the class."They won't believe you anyway." The boy winked and clicked his tongue at Mr. Fitz, gesturing obscenely at him before disappearing.

Blaine clutched his lucky pencil tightly, his knuckles going white as his face went even more red. Blaine had a feeling he was going to hate Algebra this year.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: That's all I've got left queued up! The rest will come at a...snail-ly pace. Thanks for reading!**  
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**Chapter 3**

Things were very different when Blaine entered the halls of McKinley the day after Kurt humiliated him in front of his entire Algebra class. He was used to getting bustled into lockers and having his feet stepped on… But he was in no way ready for the feeling of everyone's eyes on him, and catching his name being whispered behind him as he walked past. Did they really think Blaine Anderson, of all people, would hook up with Kurt Hummel in a school bathroom? Blaine Anderson, who sat in the front row and had to fight people away from his test answers on a weekly basis? Who spent his Sundays playing DnD? He was so amazed people could even believe such an unfounded rumor. Clutching his books tightly to his chest and keeping his eyes on the ground, Blaine focused on making his way to his first class.

He had made up his mind – after Algebra he was going to tell Kurt how uncomfortable he had made him. He was going to ignore those smoldering eyes and stop thinking about that perfect chest and tell him exactly how he felt. Yeah. He wasn't scared of Kurt Hummel! There was no reason to be, right? …Well, besides the fact that he had pulled out a knife on another student… But Blaine was small and unthreatening and definitely unlike Dave Karofsky… Right?

No. There was no talking himself out of this. He'd do it right after class so the halls would be bustling and he'd be safe. Because he had to do something about this. Someone had just cat-called as they walked past Blaine while he was opening his locker, following it up with a "you the top or bottom, Anderson?" _How was this happening?_

A wrench was thrown into his plans when he got to Algebra however, and he realized 10 minutes after the bell rang and the class was already starting their work that Kurt wasn't going to be coming to class today. It made sense. He had brandished a knife, almost broke Blaine's nose, walked into class shirtless, and insulted a teacher all in one day. It was common sense that he wouldn't be in class the next day…And probably wouldn't be back for awhile, if ever. Blaine had trouble concentrating on his linear equations because he was too focused on problems of his own.

With Kurt gone for so long there'd be nothing to quell these rumors. Sure, they'd die down with time, but certainly not fast enough for Blaine's liking. He didn't know how long he could deal with that type of treatment and he really didn't need the gossip to spread any further. God, his mother worked in the school system! Yes, all she did was secretarial work and she wasn't really exposed to the craziness that happened in the McKinley hallways on a daily basis, but oh god, that was the last thing he needed – For his uptight parents, who didn't even know he was gay, to think he'd hooked up with an apparently notorious troublemaker. He was sure his mother had to know who Kurt Hummel was by his paperwork. What would she say? What would happen to _Blaine?_

No. There was no way Blaine was letting that happen. He could go to Mrs. Pillsbury and try to arrange a meeting with Kurt – If Blaine had any trust in the idea of Kurt actually showing up. Blaine sighed softly to himself, doodling small, oddly therapeutic loop-de-loops in the corner of his paper and trying to brainstorm ways to return things back to normal.

"Blaine? Hello?"

The pencil slipped from between his fingers when he realized he was being talked to and glanced around the room quickly to see who it was and… Oh. It was his teacher.

"Um, erm. Sorry, Mr. Fitz. I'm a little distracted today. What did you say?" His heart raced as he talked, not used to being in the position he was in. The teacher gave a small, seemingly understanding chuckle.

"I would say. Thinking about that troublemaker of yours, Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine blinked, stunned. Sure, the nurses would harmlessly gossip sometimes, but for Mr. Fitz to say that… in front of the entire class? Blaine fidgeted in his seat for a moment before saying "…Sir?"

Fits shook his head, suddenly looking very ominous as he stood in the front of the room. "Kurt Hummel's quite a distraction, isn't he?"

Blaine felt his nostrils flare slightly at the assumption. How dare he! He felt personally betrayed that a teacher – Someone who was supposed to look out for the wellbeing of the student body! – was here, taunting Blaine on false assumptions. He had _always_ been a good student, and, Blaine liked to think, a good _person_. Then here, a teacher he had always done his best to respect and listen to, was taking the rumor that was making his life hell and acting as if it was true?

"E-Excuse me, Mr. Fitz. I don't feel very well. Can I go to the nurses' office?" Mr. Fitz raised a brow at him.

"I find it a little suspicious that you're coming to this realization the very moment I called you up to the board, Blaine. Did you do the problems last night?" Blaine couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. _Of course_he did the problems! He always did his homework, and seeing as Mr. Fitz had had him for half a year now, he should have known that. What was he trying to insinuate now? This wasn't fair in the slightest.

"I have to go." Blaine said, a little more firmly, and didn't wait for Mr. Fitz's answer before packing up his things quickly and shooting out the door.  
>He didn't go to the nurses' station, though. No, Blaine did something he had never done before. He stormed right out of the school and hurried to his car, tears threatening to fall from the corners of his eyes. Fishing for his keys in his pocket, Blaine unlocked his car and climbed into the driver's seat, throwing his books on the seat next to him and gripping the steering wheel tightly. He didn't really know what else to do. He was hurt and angry and he just wanted to go home, he thought as he sniffled and wiped his eyes. He knew he'd have to face the consequences of walking out of Mr. Fitz' class, but the man had deserved it and Blaine didn't think he could have stayed in that classroom a minute longer.<p>

He'd never skipped class before. He told himself just this once wouldn't hurt. He shoved his keys into the ignition, but when the car sputtered and sighed and refused to start, Blaine finally let the tears drop. He slumped himself over his steering wheel and cried, cursing his old, junky Ford and how it always seemed to give out at the worst possible times. He cursed his parents. His family was freaking loaded, and they could afford to buy Blaine a nice car but no, since he was still so young he had to maintain this old thing because it _taught him responsibility. _Which was ridiculous. He was the most responsible kid Blaine knew.

He cursed Mr. Fitz and his ignorance. Situations like that were exactly why he didn't tell people he was gay… Not that Mr. Fitz had really said any sort of slur against his sexuality, but in a town like Lima, it was certainly a possibility that it was on Mr. Fitz' mind. God, these types of things just weren't _fair! _He sniffled as he hugged his steering wheel tightly, so wrapped up in himself and cursing the list of things Blaine felt needed cursing that a little yelp accompanied him jumping up as someone knocked on the glass of his window.

"Car troubles, honey?"

That perfect face with that horrible smirk had a forehead pushed up against the glass. Blaine hurriedly wiped at his face, his cheeks going pink even though he didn't want them to. _Of course_Kurt would show up now; it was inconvenient for him to be here now.

"Why're you here? Aren't you suspended again or something?" Blaine spat weakly, wiping his nose on his sleeve. The other boy only gave his stupid little laugh in response. Kurt reached into his pocket and flashed a little plastic bag of something green before stuffing it back into his jacket.

"I'm good at what I do, hon. I won't let some silly suspension keep me from my job." This was enough to distract Blaine from his anger for a second, and his eyes widened.

"You're…" He looked around nervously and said it in a hushed voice. "You're a drug dealer?" Kurt rolled his eyes at him. "I'm too interesting for retail and too cool to be broke. Now, pop your hood," Kurt said, patting the window again before pushing off of it and heading to the front of Blaine's car before he could protest. Having the same internal battle he always seemed to have when Kurt was around, Blaine reached down apprehensively and pulled the latch that unlocked the hood of his car, and watched as Kurt pushed it up with one hand and stuck his head behind it.

"Oh, duh. Alright, Anderson, try her again!" Kurt called after picking through the parts for a moment. Blaine did so, and couldn't help but smile as the engine puttered to life. Kurt lowered the hood and brushed his now dirty hands off on his pants, looking pleased with himself as he circled back around to Blaine's door. He rolled down his window excitedly. "Thank you so much, Kurt," Blaine said earnestly, suddenly feeling bad for having been so harsh on him.

"Yeah, well, it's going to shit out on you again unless you get that fuse fixed. It'll probably cost you a hundred bucks if you take it to a mechanic. My dad and I own our own Auto place, though, and… hmm…" Blaine cocked a brow at the boy as he leaned into his window, popping his knuckles as he schemed. "If you give me a ride home from school for the next week, starting right now, I'll fix it for you for free."

"If your dad owns a car shop, why don't you have your own car?" Blaine responded with, not knowing what else to say.

"My shop too, not just my dad's. Keep your facts straight. Cars are boring. I have a motorcycle, yeah, but it's forecast to rain all week and I don't want dickheads splashing my Harley with mud." Kurt quipped back.  
>Blaine knitted his brows in concentration, staring at his steering wheel as he weighed his options. While the idea of being in the car alone with the other boy for an entire week both left Blaine flustered and frustrated, the offer to fix his car was admittedly extremely generous of Kurt. Well, as long as he wasn't lying. Blaine didn't really have a hundred dollars to spend on car repairs anyway, and the free repair would mean he wouldn't have to ask his parents for the money, which was something they made sure he always dreaded having to do.<p>

"Fine. Get in." Kurt wasted no time in doing so, sliding into the passenger's seat and filling the car with his unfairly intoxicating musk of body spray and axel grease. Already regretting his decision and hoping against hope that his car would make it to wherever Kurt lived, Blaine threw his little car into drive and headed out. However, he wasn't forced to deal with the awkwardness that was Kurt having his boots up against the dash of his car and Kurt's hand playing with the air out the open window for long, because it seemed Kurt didn't live that far from the school. It wasn't long until Kurt pointed out a run-down looking auto place with an old-looking 'Burt's Tires and Lube' sign plated to the front, and was telling Blaine to 'just pull straight into the garage'.

Judging by how dirty the shop was, Blaine figured that they either got too many customers to keep up with the cleaning, or so few it didn't matter. And seeing as there was only one other car in the garage, it was probably the last one. There were piles of parts and auto-repair books spilling out of every corner of the garage and a single desk overflowing with outdated paperwork and coffee mugs made him cringe. Blaine Anderson was a very organized person.

Kurt unfolded a piece of cardboard and slid himself under his car as Blaine wandered into the office area of the shop. Glancing around, Blaine pulled his hands from his pockets and sat down in the dingy office chair and began to try to sort the large stacks of papers into something easier to understand. It didn't take long for the boy to clear the desk and make it look presentable, and Blaine was halfway through straightening a stack of invoices when the door to the garage swung open and Kurt popped in, his face and shirt smudged with grime.  
>The leather-clad male raised an eyebrow when he saw the impressive job Blaine had done with the desk, and wasted no time in moving up and leaning over it, his head hovering over Blaine as he swiveled and caught Kurt's eyes.<p>

"My Dad's going to be pissed. He won't be able to find anything now." Blaine was only confused by the statement, but figured he should apologize anyway.

"Oh, sorry, I got bored and… well, it looked like it needed to be done." Blaine instantly realized something he had said triggered Kurt's cockiness, because a wild smirk lit up his face and he leaned in closer.

"Well, honey, if you were bored you could have just said so. I happen to know a great way to occupy the time…"

Yep, there it was. Except it didn't just stop at that. Kurt was pushing himself further over the desk, leaning into Blaine, who rolled his chair back a few paces and began looking uncomfortable.

"Did… did you fix my car?"

Kurt laughed and bobbed his head sarcastically, then lifted a knee and pushed himself onto the desk, knocking over one of the piles of paperwork Blaine had created.

"Of _course _I did. Like I said, it's my shop too. I'm no amateur, Anderson." His voice had lowered to a sultry whisper as he climbed closer to Blaine, who had pushed the chair back up against the wall now. The distance wasn't enough, though. Kurt crawled across the desk, his eyes dropping from Blaine's own to study his lips intently as he continue to close the gap in the same painfully slow way he had in the hallway just yesterday.

"Hey…" Kurt whispered, close enough that as he breathed the word out it brushed hotly against Blaine's cheek. Blaine gulped, waiting for what was going to come next, until he realized he was supposed to answer.

"W-What…?" He said hoarsely, unable to stop his own eyes from darting wildly between Kurt's lips as he slid his tongue across them to leave them glistening, and the heavy dip of Kurt's V-neck exposing the chest that had already taken Blaine's breath away once.

"You're damn gutsy, Anderson, did you know that? You stand up to me in that fight, you give my ass a ride home after blatantly telling you I'm a drug dealer. Hell, you come in here and organize some random person's desk without even fuckin' asking."

Kurt pushed himself even closer and smiled wider as Blaine filled the pause in his words with a painfully loud gulp.

"Well, I have another offer for you. If you have the guts to kiss me right here, right now, you don't have to pick me up at all this week. Fuck, you don't have to see me ever again if you don't want to. I just want to see if you're g—"

It was Blaine that cut Kurt off as he closed the gap. The tension was unbearable. For a moment, Blaine understood how people could do unthinkable things like cheat on their love ones or sleep with someone they never even planned on speaking to, because when it's right there, hovering with it's intoxicating musky smell and wet lips in front of you; teasing you, it becomes damn near impossible to resist. Blaine knew that the minute he got in his car he'd feel like another one of Kurt's pawns, (he really had no idea if Kurt slept around or not, but he figured it was safe to assume he was promiscuous) but, he had to admit, the moment their lips touched, Blaine felt a thrill of adrenaline surge his entire body. Which, he guessed, was also why he had so eagerly parted his lips to let Kurt push his tongue in eagerly… and why he had let the other boy clamber off the desk and right onto Blaine's lap… and why he reached his own arms around the boy's back and pushed them up the back of his shirt as Kurt cupped Blaine's cheeks and ground their mouths together with a soft groan.

The kiss grew in passion and it didn't take long before they were both red-faced and panting into each other. After the first contact, the kiss had becoming instantly addicting to Blaine. Something about it filled him from the pit of his stomach and made his brain swim hazily. Blaine had kissed other people before, but Kurt really was a fantastic kisser, which could be expected. However, what he hadn't anticipated was theway Kurt was kissing. He had expected to be man-handled – Feel hands searching for his ass and hips grinding, but instead Kurt just pushed their bodies together and arched into the kiss as he held Blaine's face with both hands. It made Blaine feel unfairly cared for, since he knew the minute they parted that feeling would dissipate and Kurt wouldn't be the generous kisser; he'd be the asshole in the leather jacket who made his life at school a living hell. Blaine didn't want that to happen, though. He wanted to keep kissing like this forever, but it seems the world didn't agree with that sentiment, because suddenly the front door of the office flew open and a tall, furious bald man in a baseball cap and a jean jacket appeared in the doorway.

"Hey! What the _fuck_ is this?"

Kurt practically flung himself off of Blaine, clambering up quickly and wiping his mouth as the steaming man drew closer. Blaine could see that the man was white-knuckling a large can of beer in one hand and held the keys to what had to be the shop in the other, and was suddenly very scared.

"Dad, this is Blaine. He arranged your desk for you, isn't he just a peach?" Kurt said in his sickeningly sarcastic tone. "He was also_ just leaving_," he hissed as he turned and glared at Blaine, nodding his head toward the garage door. Not having to be told twice, he hurried out of the chair and waved feebly without making eye contact to Kurt's dad on his way out of the office into the car, only catching a fragment of their conversation as he did so.

"Dammit Kurt, the shop isn't your goddamn loveshack! I'm so-"

"Jeez Dad, calm down or you'll have another heart attack. I was only even_ here_to-"

"Don't you dare play that card on me!"

As he clambered into his car, Blaine saw Kurt had left his key in the ignition and he turned it, relieved as his car started up smoothly and he was able to back out of the tiny, messy garage. Stopping for a moment in front of the shop to tidy his clothes and fix his hair, Blaine felt surprisingly empty as he glanced in to watch the two family members continue to fight; Kurt leaning dramatically against the window and rolling his eyes as his father gesticulated wildly.

_Well, this is going to complicate things, _Blaine thought as he drove home from one of the most bizarre encounters he'd ever had in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Sorry it took so long, guys! I'm really bad at this, and on top of it life's been really rough for me. I made myself sit in a diner for 4 hours last night and pump this out, though. Hopefully with the end of school and the approaching summer, things will level out for me and I can write this a bit faster. But uh, enjoy! Also, this is unbeta'd and if anybody would be interesting in beta-ing for me so I don't have to make Windy do it that would be great!_

**Chapter 4**

"You didn't."

"I did."

Kurt watched as Quinn quickly handed off her cigarette to Santana to criticize Kurt, whose smug look seemed to become less severe as she took a long drag from it. Last year, when the tobacco prices had been hiked up (a few months after all of them had started smoking, _of course_) they had all began rolling their own cigarettes. It just wasn't the same, however, so once a week all the Skanks pulled some money together and bought a pack to split between them when they got together every morning before school. Kurt didn't smoke, but it was being able to see the change in everybody's demeanor every morning that inspired him to always throw some money into their pool. Besides, sharing something was just another reason to bring them all together, which Kurt knew they all needed. Every one of the members of the tiny group of rebels were brought together by one fact – None of them had anybody else.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Santana had Brittany – the cheerleader she was secretly dating behind Puck's back. Tina was "sleeping" (which was code for also secretly dating) with Mike Chang from the football team. Hell, she was even trying to get Mike to come join Glee Club with them. Quinn sort of had Sam…And Puck…And Finn, but the only person she really had eyes on was Rachel. Zizes had a long line of men behind her at all times, but it was really just to cover up the fact that she was probably dating Puck, too. (God, they were an incestual mix. Being in the same school club did that to people, Kurt guessed.) Hell, maybe Kurt was the only one who didn't have anyone else, actually. There was sort of Mercedes, but she had been his friend for far too long and they had drifted apart – Probably because Kurt had gotten to be such a handful as they grew older. Kurt couldn't blame her. He was kind of a diva, and two divas don't really mix. He shrugged away that train of thoughts, scoffing at Quinn in the process.

"You're an idiot." Santana scoffed back, passing the cigarette Zizes' way.

"Yeah, you just broke up with Karofsky. Kind of a quick jump, there-"

"-Fuck Karofsky." Kurt interjected, scuffing his boot on the ground. (Which he really shouldn't do, he reminded himself. These were custom-made and cost him 200 bucks and certainly didn't deserve his abuse.) Quinn was right, though. The breakup was a little too knew for Kurt to want to talk about. But fuck it – Kurt'd be damned if he dated anyone who was going to push themselves on him. Kurt Hummel did things when he damned well pleased, not when some jock asshole who Kurt had thought might've been some little fun-to-corrupt closeted sweetheart decided he wanted to get it in. Yeah, hell no. Fuck Karofsky.

"Are you gunna sleep with him?" Santana rasied a brow.

"What? I dunno. I don't plan shit like that. That's a stupid question. You guys are so unhelpful."

Zizes laughed at him, which was followed up by a dramatic hiss as she received a very rough elbow to the ribs.

"You totally are." She managed to choke out, which caused the whole group to snicker.

"Fuck you."

As the conversation quickly spiraled out of his control, Kurt contemplated for a moment why he had even decided that these people, who were his so-called friends, should know about the stupid kiss. The stupid kiss that was just a stupid kiss and hadn't meant anything but a long, drawn-out and unneeded screaming match with his stupid dad.

"Kurt, don't." Quinn said, with a suddenly serious and unappreciated motherly tone that didn't really sound right coming from a girl in a tattered skirt with bright pink hair and too many piercings. The boy huffed and leaned up against the crumbled brick of the abandoned McKinley sports shed.

"Alright, alright. I don't need a damned intervention here, jeez. Don't you Skanks have a hobby that doesn't involve criticizing my sex life?"

"I think you mean _love_ life." Tina cooed sarcastically, flicking her lighter nonchalantly and smirking knowingly at Kurt, which he replied with a nasty sneer.

"Hey, you're the one who brought up the you kissed Blaine Anderson. Which I still don't get. Not that cute, buddy."

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the wall, flicking the dying cigarette out of Tina's hand.

"Whatever. I don't need to take your abuse. At least I have a love life." He eyed them all with a dramatically suggestive cock of his brow and smirked triumphantly as they all looked down knowingly at their ratty Converse.

"Anyway, I got a ride to catch. See you losers." The group cat-called in unison and Kurt remembered why he was friends with these Skanks in the first place, because even he was unable to suppress a smile at their unplanned chorus of howls. Hearing the click of a lighter as they decided to pull another cigarette from the pack, Kurt stepped around the corner and took a deep breath, steeling himself, though he didn't know why he had to fucking steel himself to see_ Blaine Anderson. _

This was fucking stupid, he reminded himself as he flipped a mirror out of his back pocket and checked his teeth – Y'know. Just in case.

"Oh. My. God." Every mouth dropped in the circle of friends as Blaine admitted his side of the kiss, but Thad was the only one with the impulsiveness to finally speak. The game of DnD they had been playing seem to have been put on pause, because Wes had dropped his storyteller's notebook and every face was leaning over the play board expectantly. Character sheets were rumpled. Strategically placed markers were toppled over. Blaine turned about eleven different shades of red. It was a mess.

"You sly fox, you." Wes cooed, leaning back in his chair and clapping.

"You raunchy mo'fo'!" David chimed in, pumping his fist excitedly in the air.

"Hell,_ I_ could kiss you right now." Jeff said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. Blaine dropped his head on the table and groaned, shaking his head in exasperation.

"I didn't know I was hanging out with a bunch of _bros._ I mean come on, who are you guys, the Skanks?" Blaine whined against the surface of the table. He loved his little group of friends very dearly, but they were all _so _excitable; and all so interested in Blaine's life. Well, it wasn't just Blaine's life. Being the group of misfits they were, the six of them definitely clung to each other and watched out for the other's well being. They had all been bullied and outcasted, and it brought them together in a way Blaine couldn't exactly explain. It was very sweet – They were all very caring – But it could be a bit overbearing sometimes.

"Was it _romantic?_" He heard Nick sing from his post across the table, and Blaine didn't even hesitate to fumble for his pen and chuck it across the room at him. He heard Nick gasp dramatically and the rattle of chairs as he ducked out of the way, smiling satisfactorily.

"_No._ It was _weird._ I don't know what I was thinking. He's just so…_Hot._" Blaine lifted his head up for a brief moment so he could bang it back down on the table.

"What do you mean, weird?" Jeff chimed in from Nick's side, and the concern in his voice finally gave Blaine the courage to reamerge.

"I dunno. My car basically broke down in the parking lot and he'd said he'd fix it, so I drove to his and his dad's shop and he climbed over his dad's desk and was like, -No, I'm not joking- and was like, whispering at me and just – I just _kissed_ him. I didn't know what else to do." Blaine ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, looking desperately around the group for an answer. That's what they did for each other – They found each other's answers. However, right now everybody seemed to be waiting for somebody else to speak up.

"Well…Did you like it?" Jeff offered tentatively, and the question made Blaine furrow his brow and bite his lip.

"Yeah…I did. It felt really…Good. But I don't get it!" Blaine leaned back in his chair and flailed his arms into the air desperately. "How can something that feels so good, be so bad?" He buried his face back in his hands, defeated and groaning. Why did this have to be so hard?

"Maybe it's fate and you're supposed to swoop in and change him for the better. Kurt Hummel – Tormented soul turned gentle by the power of true love." Thad batted his eyelashes and leaned over the table in a faux-swoon, receiving nothing but Blaine covering his face with his hand and shoving him deftly away.

"Come on. Shut up. This is as serious as it gets." Blaine sighed, and Wes shook his head.

"No, Blaine. It's not." More sprawling over the table until the school bell chimed through the room, signaling the end of the after-school period the boys used as a time to run their DnD campaign.

"Ugh, we barely got anything done today. We have to start taking this to the weekends again." There was a distracted murmur of agreement, but right now, it seemed as though Blaine was the only one worried about how his elven alchemist was doing in his quest to end the coming apocalypse. Everybody had more pressing things on their minds as they rolled up the play mat and tucked their character sheets away – Blaine's love life.

"Well, my place doesn't really work anymore. My parents aren't really fans of…This." He gestured to the little world they had contained within their character sheets, and had been retreating to for the past 6 months. They talked briefly for a moment, but as the second bell chimed Blaine was beginning to dance on his toes. He was eager to make sure he got to his car in time to show Kurt he was holding up his side of their strange bargain, though the fact that he was so ready to dart worried him. Why? Why did Kurt freaking gorgeous Hummel have to clomp his way into Blaine's life and complicate everything? He shouldn't feel like his world was turning upside down because he kissed a guy he barely knew and it felt good. That was normal. That was what kissing was supposed to feel like. Blaine had probably just suffered sub-par kisses in the past and was reading too far into this.

Right?

"Listen guys, can we talk about this online tonight? I've sort – Kind of –"Everybody looked at him with raised brows expectantly. They were going to make him say it, weren't they? He rolled his eyes at them, adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag awkwardly.

"So, the deal was that he'd fix my car if I'd give him rides in for the week." Jeff and Thad both immediately went wide-eyed, and Nick made another cooing sound, elbowing Blaine.

"Doesn't he have a motorcycle, though? That's what I heard." Blaine looked down at his feet.

"Yeah…But it's going to rain all week."

"No it's not." Wes raised a brow and smirked at his friend, who was permanently interested in his shoes.

"Listen boy, he wants you." Thad, who seemed to have kept his eyebrow raised in a perfect arch since Blaine had told them, said. Then suddenly, Thad was up next to him, tucking in his shirt and straightening his bowtie and patting him on the head.

"Go get 'em, tiger. If not for yourself, then for all of our lonely souls." There was a general nod of agreement and Blaine gulped, gripping the strap to his shoulder bag tightly. Why were they always right?

Kurt picked out his car immediately from the lot, also picking out the way Blaine's small frame was huddled so stiffly in the driver's seat as he picked at the steering wheel and looked nervously downwards. He couldn't help but smile a little warmly at the sight, though he felt instantly stupid for doing so. Instead, he twisted it into something more comfortable, more familiar; a wild smirk that creased his entire face. Sauntering up to the car, he tried to focus on how much he enjoyed the click unique only to his designer boots and not on the pounding in his heart.

"Hey, Prince Charming. Here to sweep me away on your uh…" He leaned up against Blaine's door and pretended to survey the car. "_Noble _steed? If you can call it that." Blaine seemed to jump at his voice and Kurt just chuckled, though he had to physically fight the urge to blush, which was _stupid._ Plenty of guys startled when they heard Kurt's voice. Because, duh, he was Kurt Fucking Hummel – Why did it feel so different when this particular guy did? Whatever.

Not saying anything else, he strode around to the passenger's side and casually slid in. For a moment they sat in an awkward silence as Blaine sort of mumbled a flustered "Hey" and fumbled with putting the key in the ignition. Kurt threw his feet up on Blaine's dashboard, and though the other boy didn't say anything, he side-eyed Kurt for a moment. As the engine came to life the stereo lit up and resumed playing a song from the little blue ipod he had plugged in, and the melody caught Kurt's attention. Or, maybe he just made himself pay attention to it because he needed something to distract from the mounds of awkward. Kurt was_ not_ good at awkward. Fuck awkward.

_A boy like that  
>Who'd kill your brother<br>Forget that boy  
>And find another<br>One of your own kind  
>Stick to your own kind<br>A boy like that…_

Kurt chuckled to himself again. How appropriate. He crossed his arms over his chest and slid down in his seat, singing with the lyrics under his breath. Blaine looked up from pulling his seatbelt over his chest.

"You like West Side Story?" He supplied timidly, and Kurt rolled his eyes, pulling himself back up again.

"Yeah, Anderson. In case you haven't noticed, I'm sort of a modern day Tony. I mean come on." He gestured to his outfit. His _awesome_ outfit. Blaine giggled softly and adjusted his glasses, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, yeah, you kind of are."

Blaine looked up from the steering wheel and Kurt caught his eyes instantly. A second of doubt flashed in both of their eyes and – _Aw, fuck it,_ Kurt thought.

Lips crashed together. Kurt tasted coffee on Blaine's and Blaine breathed in the mingling scents of the now almost familiar cologne and cigarettes on Kurt's jacket. There was a combined sharp intake of breath as they both came up for air, caught each other's eyes for a split moment, and instantly glued themselves back together, wrestling with the minimal amount of space in the front of Blaine's car.

_Well, fuck,_ Blaine thought.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: **Sorry it's been taking me so long to get these updates up, guys! My life has been the definition of crazy lately. Hopefully I can update a little more frequently, but don't get your hopes up! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! This one's a juicy one, where that mature rating starts to come in. ;)_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Kurt moved his hand beneath Blaine's shirt, breaking their lips to sigh into the inch of air between them as he marveled at the new planes of flesh he started to explore. He dragged his fingers across the muscles in the smaller boy's abdomen, surprised to find him much more defined than Kurt had assumed. Blaine was quick to reciprocate the action, tucking his own hands just underneath the seam of Kurt's jeans. Again, Kurt was amazed by the other boy's boldness. Taking the gesture as a challenge, Kurt pulled away from Blaine's lips to nestle his head into the crook of Blaine's neck. As soon as he began flicking his tongue across the tender skin underneath his jawbone, Blaine jerked his head up quickly to grant Kurt easy access to the spot. The young rebel felt a flush rise in his cheeks as he pushed his tongue ever harder against a particularly giving spot behind Blaine's ear and Blaine let out a soft, stammering breath at the sensation.

Neither of them had bothered to turn on the light when they pushed each other into Kurt's room. (Blaine didn't know where the switch was; Kurt just didn't care.) which only made the whole experience feel even dirtier. The ride over had been excruciating for both of them,and, for the first time in his life, Blaine Anderson sped. And not like, 5-miles-over-the-speed-limit fast. No, Blaine cruised through the neighbourhood so fast even Kurt broke the tense silence to give an impressed whistle and say "A little eager, Anderson?" But Blaine didn't even look from the road. He just sort of licked his lips and clutched the steering wheel even harder. For some reason, Kurt had the decency not to bring up the painfully obvious hard-on pushing up against his slacks, for which Blaine was quietly thankful.

The desperation of the kiss was what inspired Blaine's mad driving and eagerness. The boy felt like he couldn't do anything until he was kissing Kurt again because...Well, this was just something Blaine Anderson never saw himself doing, and it just seemed more logical to just get down to _doing_ it. It felt bizarre and so obviously wrong, but every fiber of his being - Every inch of his body and every crevice of his soul- craved it so desperately. It somehow felt like he was making the right choice when some jock threw a bottle of water at Blaine's windshield and yelled for them to "Get a room - preferably in another state, fags!" and he obediently wiped his mouth and nodded when Kurt breathlessly said "Alright, fine, we will, asshole. My place. Drive."

The entire room smelled of Kurt and it was pushing Blaine to be more adventurous than he knew he could be with another boy he barely knew. He knew he had to be red in the face and the noises he were making were the epitome of embarrassing, but he knew Kurt had to be more experienced than him and the other boy didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, it seemed to be turning the rebel on, which just made Blaine eager to flush their bodies together and wrap himself around Kurt as he worked some sort of what had to be magic on Blaine's neck and collarbone. He shifted his legs about so Kurt could pull himself in closer, flattening his back against Kurt's headboard and gasping as Kurt pulled himself between them and curled his fingers deftly around the hook of Blaine's belt and began to loosen it. As he watched Kurt move to the button of his slacks, Blaine found a moment of panic because this wa_s no_t how he thought he'd lose his virginity. However, strangely, he was okay with this. As he watched Kurt slip down his pants and size up the way Blaine was straining up against the fabric of his shorts, the boy was strangely calm. The first time was supposed to be memorable, right? Well, he thought as Kurt smirked with a wordless deviance up at him before pressing his palm against the base of Blaine's dick and causing Blaine to clench his eyes closed and moan, this was certainly memorable.

"Sensitive, huh?" Kurt cooed, his mouth so buried between Blaine's legs he could feel the other's breath falling hot against the inside of his tigh. Then, before Blaine could catch his breath, Kurt's hand had surpassed the seam of his boxers and has created a steady fist around his cock. All of Blaine's muscles tensed at once as he wrung his hands into the bedsheets, calling out...Some type of unexplainable noises.

Yeah, this was definitely memorable.

"God, I love newbies." Kurt said, far too composed, and Blaine whimpered and bucked up into his hand. "H-How do you know I'm a newbie?" Blaine said shakily, trying to challenge Kurt, but all he got in response was one of those signature chuckles as he made a particularly hard stroke. Blaine had to slap his hand over his mouth to stifle himself.

He knew Kurt had to have been around the block a few times. He exuded sexualization, and was of course making it painfully clear right now, as he made lude comments and skillfully stroked Blaine until he was sweating and pushing himself into Kurt's first.

For some reason, it didn't matter, though. He didn't feel like he was just another notch on Kurt's bedpost. (Which, while he was shoved up against Kurt's headboard, he was surprised to see he didn't have.) The rebel was coming up from Blaine's thighs to kiss him long and hard on the mouth, brushing any straying curls that had released themselves from his gel back so he could catch his eyes. He would make a point to explore Blaine's body, pulling away from their raunchy, fast-paced kissing to run his hands down Blaine's sides - grab his hands and guide them around his neck - before something would click in them that would make them feel like they shouldn't be being that close and they dived back into pushing their tongues down each other's throats.

Kurt slid his hand up and down Blaine's length a few times before pulling a thumb over the head, smearing his hand and Blaine's cock in the gratutious amount of precome that had gathered there. With the extra lubrication, Kurt's hand moved with a little more fluidity and Blaine lost it a little more, throwing his head back against the bed and groaning.

"Because only newbies go crazy when I do this." Blaine didn't even have the chance to look down or ask what he meant before Kurt had taken all of Blaine in his mouth. He kept him there, rolling his tongue over the base of Blaine's cock as he squirmed above him, not pulling back until Blaine was calling out Kurt's name repeatedly. By the time he did, Blaine was already left breathless and on the edge. Kurt was just wiping a bit of spit from the corner of his mouth with a dark smirk.

"God, Kurt..." Blaine muttered, his voice hoarse with pleasure, and Kurt chuckled softly.

"I know, I'm really the best there is. Now come here, it's not every day the _dashingly handsome _villian gets to make the prince charming cream like that." Kurt replied before he dipped back down, Blaine bracing himself for the wave of pleasure as he wrapped his mouth around his cock once more. As soon as Blaine had leaned his head back and let his eyes flutter closed, though, a loud slam shook the house that was followed by a familiar voice calling out "_KURT!_"

It was Kurt's dad.

In an instant, the boy had changed from the cocky Kurt he had come to know to something much darker. Blaine looked down at Kurt as he pulled himself away from Blaine quickly, his eyes flashing dark. He ripped himself off the bed, grabbing his jacket from the floor where he had hastily strewn it on their way in and shrugged it onto himself. Without looking back at Blaine he picked up a box of tissues from his cluttered desk and threw it towards him.

"Here, finish yourself up or whatever. Just make sure you're clean about it. I don't need some other guy's come all over my bed." He said tonelessly before disappearing behind the door.

Blaine...Didn't know what to do. Instantly, he felt dirty. Looking down at the box of tissues in his hands, he pursed his lips and felt tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. Of course. Why didn't he see that this would happen? There was nothing special about what he and Kurt had just shared - Kurt probably just wanted to see if he could get somebody like Blaine into his bed. He was just a challenge - A prize to be won, then discarded. Blaine was the new toy that a spoiled Kurt yearned for, but when finally gotten, promptly got bored of. Every kiss he had mistaken as passionate, every trailing touch of the fingertips - Nothing. Blaine Anderson was nothing.

Unsteadily, he grabbed a tissue and blew his nose and ashamedly wiped himself up before he slipped his pants back on. He buried his face in his hands for a moment and let out a heavy sigh into his palms as he braced himself to leave, because there was no way Blaine was going to stay here. He didn't want to have to face Kurt again. He just wanted to get in his car and go home. Thinking about the safety of his own bed and a shower hot enough to clean him of this filthy day, the boy grabbed his keys from Kurt's disgusting dresser, kicked a pile of uncared for books out of his way, and made his way as surefootedly as possible to the front door. However, as soon as he opened the door from Kurt's room and the angry voices instantly hit his ears, his plans of running unseen to the car were instantly dashed.

"No, Kurt. I'm so sick of this game. This car shop - It's all we have. We can't fucking fix every one of your fucking boyfriend's shitty-ass cars for free."

"It's not for free. You're just not the one getting paid. And trust me, you don't want the payments I've been recei-" The Kurt Blaine didn't know was speaking now, his voice cutting and emotionless besides the hint of anger lingering beneath every word.

"_God DAMNIT!" _He was cut off by his father's voice bellowing and a loud slam, which, when Blaine fearfully peaked his head around the corner, saw came from the burly bald man slamming his hands on the kitchen table. "Go ahead. Go tell your mom that. Bring some flowers to the graveyard, sit down, get nice and comfy, and tell your mom how much of a slut you ar-"

"-And he's _NOT_ my boyfriend, Dad! I don't fucking have a boyfriend. He's just-He's nothing. _He's _the slut."

Blaine felt a gasp of hurt rise up in his throat, and he couldn't stop himself from letting it out. And, of course, Kurt's dad's eyes shot straight toward him and Blaine shrank under the large man's unwavering, rageful stare. With Kurt's same quick reflexes, his father ran up to him and grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him out into the center of their dingy kitchen. Blaine felt so little, being pulled around by someone who was supposed to be a father, his knees weakening with fear as he flexed his arm and felt the strength of the grip the man had on him. It didn't even compare to how small he felt the moment Kurt locked eyes with him, however.

The minute Blaine had been exposed, Kurt seemed to have shrank three sizes. His jacket looked too big for him as he hid himself in it through hunched shoulders, and the way he seemed to slouch down suggested his knees had gone weak as well. His eyes glistened helplessly and his mouth fell open as his horrified gaze danced between Blaine and his father. There were words on the tip of his tongue, but all he did was swallow hard. He didn't look like the cocky Skank who patrolled the hallways and parted crowds at McKinley; he looked like a scared, lost, little boy. It almost seemed impossible that the Kurt standing in front of him now was the same one he had seen pull a knife out in the middle of the hallway.

"Oh yeah? What the hell is this, then? Why don't you just have _him_ explain it? Huh?" The man gave Blaine a little shake and he uselessly tried to yank his arm away, in a slightly panicked state.

"Let go of me!" Blaine tried to spit, though his voice came out stuttered and nervous as the shake jostled his glasses off and he heard them slide across the floor. The older man must have proved his point, because he let go of Blaine's arm immediately. He also seemed to have realized he had gone too far, because he backed up against the counter wordlessly when Blaine stammered "M-My glasses." and Kurt rushed to the floor to swipe them up. Clambering up, he took Blaine's shaking hand and placed the thick rims in them, but as hurt as he was, Blaine Anderson wasn't a fool, and being jerked around by Kurt Hummel was not a game he was going to play. Now that he knew the monster behind the mystery, it was much easier to resist the dip of Kurt's collarbone or the way his legs looked when he walked.

"Y-You too. Don't touch me. I don't know why I came here, but I know I-I won't be doing it again." Blaine tried his best to sound calm and in control of the situation as he yanked his hands away from Kurt's and pushed his glasses back up his nose, but he could barely form words without stuttering over them, and his need to cry was beginning to build up a hoarseness in the back of his throat. "I-" Kurt tried to start, but Blaine cut him off.

"No, I don't want to hear it. I get it." He said, throwing up his hands before Kurt could find a way to put his on Blaine again. He didn't want Kurt's hands anywhere near him - Just the thought of what they had been doing only moments before brought back that horrible, dirty feeling and made him queasy. Turning quickly, Blaine kept his chin up as best he could as he hurried toward the door.

"Blaine-"

He spun around, not wanting to hear Kurt's stupid, beautiful voice again; especially saying his name. "You know, maybe your dad's right. Maybe you are just a slut." The statement had shocked both of them. His father shoved himself off of the counter, perhaps to move towards Blaine, but was hesitant. Kurt, who had began to scurry after Blaine the minute he set toward the door, froze in his tracks, his face going white.

Maybe it was a little drastic to call someone, even Kurt, that in front of their parents, but Blaine had to do something. He felt like he was drowning at the bottom of this struggle, and the only way to rise to the top was to play their game on the same level they were. No, Blaine was the victim,and he was going to make sure Kurt knew how wrong he was. Without lingering for another minute, the small, broken boy made his way to his car; a walk that seemed to take him a lifetime. And when he settled into the driver's seat and pulled the door closed, that's when he started to sob. He cried violently into his steering wheel, only shifting the car into drive and peeling away when he saw a solemn Kurt open the door. Blaine wasn't going to give him a chance to ruin him any more than he already had.

* * *

><p>"That's not all you are, Kurt."<p>

The young rebel repeated it to himself as he ran into his room and slammed the door behind him, scanning his immediate surroundings and finding a trash can to kick across the room. It didn't satisfy him, however, so he rammed his forearm across his desk and shoved the entirety of its contents on the floor, car parts clanging painfully loud and pencils flying across the room to join the garbage the massacred trash can had spread. He still felt like he was going to fucking cry. Fuck that. Kurt Hummel doesn't fucking cry over stupid boys like Blaine Anderson, even if they do agree with his stupid fucking father.

"Neither of them know the half of it." He tried to reason, running his hands through his manicured hair in distress and sliding restlessly down in front of his vanity table. With shaking hands he flipped on the row of lights that encircled the large mirror, which was definitely the softest (and most well-kept) item in his room. With trembling hands he took a cloth from one of the drawers and wiped his face with it, then sorted through the large amount of products on his desk until he found his favorite black eyeliner. It always made him feel better in times like this. He could cover up his scared eyes and trembling upper lip and craft himself into a perfect menace.

Maybe he'd perfect it this time, he thought as he leaned in closer to the mirror and began running the stick of make-up around his eye. Yes, he'd make himself so terrifyingly handsome that everybody would notice him when he walked down the halls, but nobody would get close enough to hurt him. Kurt Hummel was a thing to be admired from afar, but too good to be touched. Too good for Blaine Anderson.

Halfway through his left eye his hand started to shake, though, and the perfection was lost with one flick of the wrist. Outraged, Kurt cursed at the stupid little fucking tube and slammed it back down on the table, his pent-up sobs coming down with it, the tears blotted with the failed make-up.

"Don't listen to them, Kurt. They're fucking stupid." He told himself as he wrapped his arms around his head and let out a heavy, uncontrolled whimpering cry he prayed his dad wouldn't hear.


End file.
